My Poetry. The Rose.

A rose in bloom, so soft, so bright,
Unfolds its petals to the light.
With crimson blush or ivory grace,
It wears the sun upon its face.

Each thorn along its slender stem
A quiet shield, a jewelled gem.
It teaches love, it whispers pain,
A beauty born of sun and rain.

It lives a life both brief and bold,
A fleeting fire the hands can’t hold.
Yet in its scent, the world will find
A memory etched in heart and mind.

O gentle rose, both fierce and fair,
A symbol strong, beyond compare—
You bloom, you fade, yet still you stay,
In dreams that never drift away.